


Watch My Soul Fade Away

by thekeyholder



Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Ghosts, Detective Noir, Halloween, M/M, Mystery, season 1 timeline
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-29
Updated: 2016-11-20
Packaged: 2018-08-27 17:23:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 14,744
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8410177
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thekeyholder/pseuds/thekeyholder
Summary: Oswald has disappeared, leaving Harvey and Jim without any leads. That is, until Oswald's ghost appears to Jim. A detective story involving gemstones, secret family history, Oswald's clueless but sassy ghost, and Jim convincing himself that he's not going mad.





	1. Disappearance

**Author's Note:**

> This is my entry for [Gobblepot Halloween 2016](http://gobblepotgazette.tumblr.com/post/151434357364/gobblepot-halloween-2016) (come join us, there's still time)! I'm going to post one chapter each day of the fest, and hopefully update the rest asap. Many thanks to my fellow mods for joining me in this craziness. Special thanks to [Nekomata58919](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Nekomata58919/pseuds/Nekomata58919) for the beta and [skeletontwins](http://archiveofourown.org/users/skeleton_twins) for her enthusiasm and support!
> 
> Title is modified lyrics from the song [Hoodoo by Muse](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gW4NdDTg07Y).
> 
> I've never written a detective story/mystery before, so I hope this doesn't suck. xD

        Jim Gordon had barely made it inside the GCPD, when Harvey, placing his hat on his head, guided his partner outside.

 

        “Come on, Jimbo, we’ve just got a call. We’re visiting your old friend.”

 

        “What old friend?” Jim asked, although he had already suspected, a strange feeling settling in the pit of his stomach as he got into the car.

 

        “Cobblepot. His man – what’s he called? – Gilzean called in to report a break in and that his boss is missing.”

  

        “Cobblepot’s missing?”

 

        “Apparently. The little snitch must have stepped on someone’s toes again – no wonder, though. I mean, he’s got an army of enemies.”

 

        Jim grunted. He sat in silence as they drove to Oswald’s, where Butch was already waiting for them at the door.

 

        “Thanks for coming. I didn’t let anyone in – I didn’t want them to contaminate the scene.”

 

        Jim and Harvey could already see the signs as soon as they went through the door: most of the bottles in the bar had been swept off from the shelves, the tables and chairs were in disarray, shards crunching under their shoes as the two detectives made their way inside. Jim turned towards Oswald’s office, which was in the same state as the club ~~:~~ **;** papers everywhere, drawers taken out from the oak desk, their contents sprawled on the floor. Obviously, someone had been looking for something. Oswald would be seething at the sight, and Jim felt the air grew heavy, as if the owner were really there, glaring at the disorder.

 

        “Jim, I think I found something!” Harvey shouted, and Jim hurried outside the office.

 

        “Check this out,” Harvey pointed at the floor.

 

        At first, he didn’t realise what it was, but then Jim crouched to have a closer look. They were splatters of something dark. _Blood_ , Jim thought to himself, and inadvertently, a shiver ran down his spine. He looked back at Harvey with wide eyes.

 

        “I checked one end of the trail, it suddenly stops outside, on the pavement.”

 

        “So someone was bleeding, and was taken away by car, I guess.”

 

        “That’s what I thought. Let’s see where they were wounded.”

 

        The irregular blood spatters led straight to a wall at the back of the bar. Jim examined the velvety tapestry attentively.

 

        “Secret escape way?” Harvey asked.

 

        “That’s what I thought as well. If only we knew how to open it.”

 

        “Well, let’s see if Penguin’s goon knows something. Gilzean! Come here, make yourself useful.”

 

        Butch threaded his way carefully through the rubble.

 

        “How do we open this secret door?”

 

        “Uhh… I had no idea this existed. Boss never told me about it.”

 

        Jim was feeling the black tapestry for some clue – he suspected that those buttons weren’t just décor. While Harvey was grilling Butch, Jim closed his eyes and tried to guess what Oswald would choose as a code. It had to be something simple, easy to remember in case the owner was in danger. Jim’s hair was standing up at the back of his neck, as if something cold had touched it. Lead by instinct, he pressed both buttons at once, and the door opened with a click.

 

        “What on earth…”

 

        Jim clicked the light switch inside the secret passageway, and his stomach flipped instantly at the sight inside. The blood traces got ever thicker until it grew in a worryingly big, dried puddle at the end of the flight of stairs.

 

        “I’m going to call forensics,” Harvey said quietly.

 

        Jim straightened his back, and tried to pat Butch’s arm in a soothing manner. If all that blood belonged to Oswald… Jim shook his head. This was serious. Gotham was a violent city, but things like this didn’t really happen to mobsters so high in the hierarchy. Granted, Oswald wasn’t a big boss yet, not at Falcone’s or Maroni’s level, but his disappearance (death? _No, no, can’t be_ , Jim chided himself) was rather conspicuous. They had to find out what happened.

 

        After the arrival of the forensics team, Jim and Harvey proceeded interviewing Cobblepot’s employees. No one had seen or heard anything. No one knew who could have done it. That is, Cobblepot had a lot of enemies, but Butch claimed that no one would have attacked him so openly.

 

        Just as they finished interviewing people, Ed called them to confirm that the blood was Oswald’s. Of course, he hadn’t been found in any hospitals, but his body hadn’t turned up anywhere either. Not that mobsters couldn’t make it disappear…

 

        “There was this other guy too, that big fellow. What’s his name?” Jim asked.

 

        “You mean Gabe? He’s with Mrs. Kapelput, Oswald made him her bodyguard a good while ago.”

 

        “Is there a reason for that? He must have felt she was in danger if he assigned Gabe to her.”

 

        “Has he behaved strangely lately?”

 

        “He’s always strange,” Butch looked at Harvey as if he were stupid. “I don’t know, maybe he was more nervous and fidgety. Hard to tell. Lots of reasons for that, though. It’s a tough business.”

 

        Harvey was outside already, talking with some other cops. Jim sent Butch home, and told him to call them if he remembered anything else, or if Oswald contacted him. There were slim chances of that, though.

 

        Finally, Jim was alone in the bar. He’d been to a lot of crime scenes in his life, but he had the weirdest feeling here. Something was not right. He stood in the middle of the club, rooted by some sense that he had to stay there, that if he tried hard enough, he could hear the whispers of the walls.

 

_Jim, Jim…_

 

        But it was only in his head. He shuddered, and with a last look at the sad destruction, Jim got into Harvey’s car.

 

* * * * *

 

        They were almost there. Floating on the waters, between the past and their future. Memories, family, and everything they knew were behind them. Adventure, hopes, and their new life lay ahead. He kissed her cheek, said he’d be back soon, had to go to the bathroom. She smiled at him, and watched as he became ever smaller with the distance. They were alone.

 

        She looked down at her daughter, whose hands were gripping the rail so tight. Her pale eyes were searching the horizon, her wild, curly hair flying out in every direction. She hugged her daughter to herself, unaware of the men creeping on behind her.

 

        A rough hand pushed her against the handrail, while at the same time she was also turned back to face them. They were shouting something at her in a language she did not understand, and she hid her daughter behind her back as soon as she could.

 

        “ _Anyu, anyuci_ ,” her daughter wailed.

 

        She told them in her own language that she didn’t understand them. Her tears started flowing as well, the harsh wind freezing them onto her red cheeks.

 

        One of the men slapped her, and another one rudely delved between her breasts, his fist closing around the pendant she wore. He tore it easily, despite her attempts to hit him and scratch him. One of the men hit her over the head, and she fell, her daughter’s cries intensifying.

 

        “ _Segítség! Tolvajok! Segítség_!” she screamed for help, but no one heard her.

 

        “ _Anyu_ ,” her daughter whispered, sobs shaking her small body, and she hugged her.

 

         “ _Shhh, Gertrúd. Itt vagyok, édes lelkem. Semmi baj_ ,” she whispered. “I’m here, my sweet soul. Have no fear.”

 

        Her family was right. That damn thing was cursed. She should have left it home.

 

* * * * *

 

        “You’re sure this is Mrs. Kapelput’s correct address?” Jim looked at the rundown block of flats. He doubted Oswald would let his mother live in this place now that he was a big dog.

 

        “This is the latest info I could find on her. I don’t think Mommy is aware of what her darling son is doing.”

 

        Jim had to agree. The one time she met Mrs. Kapelput, it was clear that she idolised her son, and that it had to be something extreme to shake her out of her dream world. Harvey and Jim climbed to the second floor, and knocked on her door. Nothing. They tried again. There was no sound.

 

        “Mrs. Kapelput, open up! GCPD!”

 

        Silence.

 

        “Either the old hen is not at home, or she disappeared as well,” Harvey concluded.

 

        “How about we get a warrant to search the flat?” Jim suggested.

 

        “How about we pick the lock?” Harvey countered, and pushed Jim out of the way.

 

        Jim shook his head, even though he knew this was much quicker. A few seconds later, the door was opened.

 

        “Mrs. Kapelput, are you in there?” Jim asked again, but no answer came.

 

        Indeed, the flat was empty, though there was no sign of break-in or robbery.

 

        “Check this out, Jim,” Harvey beckoned to Mrs. Kapelput’s cabinet where he drew a line with his index finger in the thick dust.

 

        “She hasn’t been home for a while,” Jim realised with wide eyes.

 

        “That’s right. Remember what Gilzean said? Cobblepot probably had her sent away with Gabe.”

 

        “He knew something was coming.”

 

        “Exactly.”

 

        “Okay, but why wasn’t he prepared for it? If he knew people were after him, why didn’t he strike back?” Jim mused, looking around and trying to find other clues.

 

        “I don’t know… do you think Gilzean lied to us? Do you think he knew about Gabe and Mrs. Kapelput?”

 

        “No, I don’t think so… but it’s interesting that Cobblepot kept everything secret, even from his most trustworthy man.”

 

        It was getting late, so they called it a day. Harvey dropped Jim off close to his flat. With a resigned sigh, Jim discovered that he only had some Chinese leftovers in the fridge. He washed it down with some beer, and watched TV, but his mind always went back to one thought: what the hell happened to Oswald?

 

        Unfortunately, the question and worries from the day followed Jim in his sleep as well; he woke up several times during the night, and when he did manage to sleep, it was rather fitful and he tossed and turned. At dawn, his mind seemed to have gotten tired, and he finally fell asleep. Despite his exhaustion, however, a few hours later Jim started regaining consciousness. Thanks to his army training, he became aware of someone watching him. He opened his eyes abruptly, and he could swear that Oswald Cobblepot was standing at the foot of his bed, watching him silently. However, the image was gone after he blinked.

 

        Jim sat up in his bed, and rubbed his burning eyes. He must have dreamed that. He tried his best to leave his work at the door and not think about it, but his mind never listened. It dwelled on cases with an intensity that was beneficial for his career, but not for his mental wellbeing. Oswald had disappeared, there was no way he could have been in his apartment. Jim sighed, and got ready for a new day of work.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The language that appears in the flashback is Hungarian. I know Gertrude sounds German, but honestly, I noticed several Hungarian things in the show, and in my headcanon, she comes from Transylvania. So she could totally be German and Hungarian, and that's why I decided to make her share my mother tongue, because it's such a special snowflake language that no one else understands. :D


	2. Madness

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Spooky stuff coming up!

        As Jim navigated through the Gotham rush hour, he admitted to himself that perhaps drinking two cups of coffee had been a terrible idea. Not only had he burnt his tongue, but he could feel his pulse beating madly at the back of his head, the whole thing throbbing painfully. His arms broke out in goosebumps, and Jim glanced at the rearview mirror. The shock of seeing Oswald’s sad, green eyes made Jim step on the gas, so that he almost collided with the car in front of him. People were honking and cursing, while Jim put his hand over his heart. He was too old for this shit.

 

        He glanced at the rearview mirror again, but of course, no one was sitting in his backseat. He turned around to make sure, but it _really_ was empty. Jim was certain he was going mad, and he breathed in deeply, gripping the steering wheel tighter than necessary. He made it to the GCPD without any other incident, but he couldn’t help looking behind his back from time to time. Harvey was already there, reading some document.

 

        “Wow, partner, you look like you’ve seen a ghost!”

 

        “What?” Jim looked at Harvey dumbly. “Sorry, had a crap morning.”

 

        “I can tell. I talked to Gilzean ten minutes ago, and he was surprised to hear that Mrs. Kapelput is gone. He’s certain that Oswald had sent her away with Gabe, to keep her safe.”

 

        “Great. So no other lead?”

 

        “Except for this mountain of documents from the club? No, not really. So buckle up, we’ve gotta read through them.”

 

        Several hours later, Harvey and Jim still hadn’t found any other clues. Most of the papers were boring accounting stuff, no doubt cosmeticised here and there to make it look like everything was legal. Harvey proposed a lunch break, and Jim gladly joined him to get away from the stuffy room. His head was about to explode. Just as they were about to return to the headquarters, two of their colleagues, Alvarez and Long, returned as well.

 

        Harvey started talking to them, but Jim was too tired to socialise.

 

        “What are you working on, boys?” Harvey asked.

 

        “A missing person. A neurologist who worked at the General Hospital. Vanished without a trace. She just didn’t go to work yesterday. No one knows anything.”

 

        Harvey wished them good luck, and Jim leaned against his desk, peering at the papers with utter disgust. He wasn’t one to shirk his tasks usually, but he couldn’t spend the afternoon there. He would suffocate.

 

        “Let’s go back to the club.”

 

        “There’s still work to do here. But you know what? I can see that you’re fried, so I’ll stay here and do your job as well,” Harvey proposed generously.

 

        “Maybe I’ll find something we missed. Did Butch find the keys to Penguin’s room above?”

 

        “No. I don’t know, Jim, this guy has more secrets than is humanly possible. It’s like he’s made out of secrets and lies.”

 

        “Yeah. Guess it doesn’t work otherwise for aspiring mobsters.”

 

        Jim drove back to the club more carefully, glancing at the rearview mirror from time to time. Of course, Oswald’s eyes never looked back at him. Jim blamed the strong coffee and his exhaustion for the morning incident, and made himself vow to go to bed early that evening.

 

        Just like the previous day, when he entered Oswald’s club, Jim had the strangest feeling. At least the place looked better now: most of the mess was cleaned up or swept aside, and the furniture was lined up against the wall.

 

        With confident steps, Jim headed towards the office – he was rather certain that Oswald kept spare keys to his apartment there. The police tried to break in, but it was impossible; the door was made of very thick metal, and according to Nygma, one could only enter it with the key _and_ some sort of code. It was probably easier to break into the Bank of Gotham than into Oswald’s private rooms.

 

        The office looked almost normal – there were no glass shards in there like in the club, but the floor was littered with papers the previous day. Those were now on his and Harvey’s desks. The colour scheme was much the same as in the club – black, purple and burgundy, everything luxurious and swanky. Jim was sure that Oswald dealt with his business partners here, and so this space had to be impressive, even intimidating.

 

        Jim walked around, trying to grasp at something, to see what could serve as a clue. He checked every drawer, but all he found was the guilt inside him at snooping among Oswald’s things. He smirked at the face he imagined Oswald would pull at someone looking through his stuff. This was work, he had to remind himself. He was trying to find clues about Oswald’s whereabouts, not clown around. Nothing caught his eyes, though.

 

        Frustrated, Jim sat on Oswald’s chair. His fingers tapped against the wooden desk as his eyes roamed the office. Jim tried every trick he could think of to open some secret hiding place in the massive desk, but it was like Oswald had anticipated that someone would poke around his things. Jim leaned against the leather chair, and let out a sigh. He had never really been good with the ‘stepping inside someone’s mind’ method.

 

        “Come on, Oswald, where did you hide those damn keys?”

 

        Unexpectedly, there was a sound coming from the cabinet on Jim’s left. He looked up sharply, just in time to see the various kitsch porcelain statues he’d ignored previously rattle on the top shelf. His eyes widened, and his hand automatically slid to his gun. No one was shaking the cabinet, though; only the objects on that particular shelf were clattering loudly, as if they were children bouncing impatiently, ready for their turn to jump into the pool.

 

        Jim did not see the first statue flying his way, but luckily it missed his head, and it shattered on the wall behind him. He then ducked under the desk, horrified, as more statues flew off the shelf, though none of them with such briskness as the first one. The office became quiet, and Jim got out of his hiding place, almost making the sign of the cross, but instead cursing madly. A second later, another statue – one of an old, round woman with a pink hat and blue umbrella – started rattling again, but this one just simply fell off the shelf, as if someone had flicked it.

 

        Its landing didn’t produce that typical sound of porcelain breaking, though. There was something metallic as well, and when Jim cautiously stepped closer, he saw a key among the colourful chips. His heart was pounding madly as he bent down to pick it up.

 

        “What the fuck,” he whispered to himself, and looked around frantically. He only believed all this had really happened because of the porcelain shards in the office as proof that he hadn’t been dreaming. Jim was out of there in less than a second, leaving the building altogether. He leaned against the wall, and rubbed his face nervously. ‘ _What the hell is going on? Am I going crazy?’_ was his only thought.

 

        His phone started ringing, and Jim only picked it up because it was Harvey.

 

        “Found anything useful, partner?”

 

        “Actually, I did. Got the keys. Want me to wait for you so we look through Oswald’s flat together?”

 

        “Oh, so it’s _Oswald_ now,” Harvey snorted. “Thanks not. You go through the little creep’s stuff alone and bring back anything useful. Oh, and get me some burritos on your way back, will you?”

 

        God fucking damn it. As embarrassing as it was, Jim didn’t really feel keen on returning alone to the club. He had no other choice, though.

 

        “Thanks, Harv. Real nice of you.”

 

        “Anytime, partner. Later.”

 

        With a sigh and a mantra of _‘I’m not afraid, there’s a perfectly logical explanation for the creepy things happening around me – haha, yeah, I’m going crazy’_ , Jim went back into the club, not even looking at the office, just going straight for the stairs leading up to Oswald’s private flat. As Ed had informed Jim, there was a heavy door, equipped with a traditional and keypad lock, the latter requiring the code that Jim didn’t have. He tried the key first, and sighed with relief as he heard the click. Hoping that he’d be lucky, Jim tried the door handle, but of course, it was still locked.

 

        What if he tried to guess the code, though? He was a detective, he could figure this shit out! What was Oswald’s birth date again? November 5th? He tried 1105. Nope. Maybe 0511. Also no. Of course, it could have been his mother’s birth date, which Jim didn’t know… He inspected the buttons, and noticed that 2, 5, 6 and 9 seemed shinier than the rest, so they had to be part of the code somehow. Jim typed in random combinations of those numbers, but neither worked. He ended up just punching the lock and the wall, throwing in colourful expletives for good measure. He was so worked up that he did not notice the sudden drop in temperature. Jim was not only punching, but also kicking the door and walls at that point.

 

        “Good Lord, James, don’t be such a barbarian! What on earth did that poor door do to you?!”

 

        Jim turned abruptly, his eyes widening when he noticed Oswald standing a few feet away from him. _Unharmed_. He didn’t want to think about the weight that had just lifted from his chest. But how had he not heard Oswald coming up the stairs?! A few moments of silence passed before Jim opened his mouth.

 

        “Oswald? Where have you been?! Everyone is looking for you.”

 

        “Ah… it’s a bit complicated. Let’s go inside, and I’ll explain everything.”

 

        Jim breathed out with relief but in the next moment, Oswald flickered out of existence, making Jim lose his wits again. He reappeared just a few seconds later, in the exact same spot, but there was no logical explanation for this phenomenon, unless Jim was hallucinating.

 

        “Cobblepot? What the fuck was that?! What is going on?!”

 

        Oswald stepped closer, and Jim could see now that he looked surreal, slightly glowing and somehow see-through, as if made of light. He ignored Jim’s questions, and instead went to the keypad lock. However, as he tried to type in the code, his fingers went through the solid material. Jim just watched with wide eyes, his brain trying to process the strange images.

 

        “Detective, a little help?” Oswald huffed. “I’m afraid I cannot do it.”

 

        Jim shook his head incredulously. “Sorry. What’s the code?”

 

        “26659.”

 

        The door opened with a click, and Jim took out his gun, in case anyone was hiding inside. However, the apartment was dark and empty. When he switched on the light, though, Oswald became barely visible. He was looking around as if it were his first time seeing his own apartment. Jim was still trying to wrap his hand around what had just happened. He gained entrance thanks to a ghostly Oswald telling him the door code. This was not real. This couldn’t be real.

 

        “Okay, Cobblepot, stop with the games. What’s this?”

 

        “If only I knew, Jim. The best explanation I have is that I have become some kind of spectre.”

 

        “You mean a ghost?” Jim asked sharply, and rolled his eyes when Oswald shrugged. “Am I actually having this conversation or is it just in my head?”

 

        “I assure you, this is very much real. I am just as befuddled as you are.”

 

        “What happened to you? We found a lot of your blood in the secret passageway.”

 

        “I can’t remember anything about that.”

 

        “Who could have hurt you? Falcone? Maroni? Fish? Or did you piss off someone else as well in the meantime?” Jim was getting worked up, and he stepped closer to Oswald, as if he might have a better chance to squeeze out answers of him.

 

        “I don’t know, Detective, and I do _not_ appreciate your tone,” Oswald replied coldly, not backing away from Jim, but leaning in. “You’re supposed to help _me_ , yet as I’ve seen so far, it’s the other way around.”

 

        They were staring at each other, and Jim found ghost Oswald’s gaze just as intense and compelling as his human counterpart’s. They would have remained in that position for a long time, neither of them willing to lose to the other, were it not for a loud noise coming from downstairs.

 

        “You upstairs, partner?” Harvey’s voice rang out.

 

        “Yes.”

 

        Oswald glanced to the left, visibly shaken.

 

        “Sorry, Jim,” he managed to whisper before vanishing into thin air.

 

        Jim remained in the middle of the room, looking at the spot Oswald had been in, when Harvey climbed the stairs to the apartment.

 

        “Colour me impressed,” Harvey added as he took off his hat. “Not even Nygma could guess the code. I’ll just call the team to come and collect any evidence.”

 

        Jim could barely tear away his eyes from the point he last saw Oswald in. “Yeah, you do that. Maybe they’ll find some new leads.”

 

        He passed Harvey and exited the club, breathing in the cold air of Gotham. If Harvey hadn’t interrupted… maybe he could have found out more. He wondered if Oswald would ever return, or if this was one of those curious incidents where the soul came to say goodbye, before passing to the other side. Something inside his chest clenched more painfully than he thought were physically possible. He pushed the sensation aside, and went in to help Harvey.


	3. Ghost Friend

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ghost shenanigans.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Halloween! I hope everyone has lots of spooky fun today! This chapter contains one of my favourite scenes from the story, hope you'll enjoy it as well. :)

        It was only later, when the team finished combing through Oswald’s apartment, that Jim realised how strikingly different the living quarters were from the club and office. He could still distinguish the taste for luxury, but the furniture was simple and elegant, almost minimalistic. Here, Oswald didn’t have to show off his wealth and power blatantly, since none of his business partners were allowed inside.

 

        The forensics guys concluded that no one had broken into the apartment – they could only find one set of fingerprints, which obviously belonged to Oswald. Nothing stood out: the apartment was obviously lived in, but it was orderly and nice, unlike Jim’s place – every evening, he had to kick stuff out of his way in order to get to his bed. However, Harvey didn’t seem to believe the nice exterior; he poked his nose here and there, opening drawers at random.

 

        “Look at this, Jim. Penguin has an entire drawer dedicated to neckties.” He took out a beautiful, purple silk tie, and put it in front of his neck. “How do I look?”

 

        Jim just shook his head tiredly.

 

        “Yeah, you’re right, the colour doesn't really suit me. But it's damn fine, I bet this piece alone costs more than all my clothes,” Harvey sighed, and returned the tie to the drawer. Just as he was about to close it, though, the drawer, as if pushed by someone, was slammed, trapping Harvey’s index finger in the process.

 

        “OUCH! What the hell?!” Harvey exclaimed, shaking his finger, and then sucking it to ease the pain.

 

        Jim laughed, the cold sensation at his nape explanation enough as to whom did it. “See, that's exactly what happens when you snoop in other people's stuff.”

 

        “I’m not snooping, I’m investigating.”

 

        Even though the cold touch made Jim break out in goosebumps, he was relieved that Oswald was still around, even though he was invisible. He probably didn't want to appear in front of Harvey and the other cops, and Jim could understand that. Yet he was still baffled as to why Oswald chose to appear to him. It had to be his skewed sense of the relationship they had, though Jim winced at the word. At best, he’d call Oswald his informant, but definitely not his friend as the mobster probably thought.

 

        “So, we got into the flat, but it didn't really help us. And my finger is smashed, I'll have to put ice on it,” Harvey said with a grimace.

 

        “Do you want me to drive you to the ER?” Jim asked tongue-in-cheek.

 

        “Very funny.”

 

        “Your pain was not in vain, though. Remember how the club looked yesterday? The guys who went after Cobblepot only searched the club. They knew the thing they were looking for was there,” Jim mused. “Otherwise they would have rifled his apartment as well.”

 

        “Don’t think they could have gotten through that door, though.”

 

        “Maybe not, but they would have tried at least.”

 

        “That’s true. The question is whether they managed to get their dirty hands on what they were looking for,” Harvey wondered.

 

        With a sigh, Jim followed his partner outside. He was certain that there were some other clues hidden in the apartment, but he might only be able to discover them with a bit of help. He knew he’d have to return alone if he wanted Oswald’s help.

 

* * * * *

 

        Jim didn’t want to admit to himself that he felt disappointed when Oswald didn’t make an appearance later that day when he was alone. He first thought that maybe Oswald was bound to his club, but then he remembered the strange occurrences when Oswald appeared in his room and car, so he could clearly show up in various locations. Jim didn’t know much about ghosts, and he suspected that no sane person _would_. However, the lack of appearances unnerved Jim, and led him to believe that he had dreamed everything. He had to wait two whole days – during which he and Harvey didn’t make much progress with the investigation – until he felt the coldness at his nape.

 

        Jim was washing the mountains of dishes when he straightened his back.

 

        “Oswald.”

 

        “Hello, Jim.”

 

        Oswald was sitting at Jim’s kitchen table, looking quite solid in the evening light.

 

        “I thought you would come back sooner to haunt me,” Jim added, trying to be nonchalant, but sounding petulant instead.

 

        “I assure you that I have no intention of haunting you, for I have better things to do,” Oswald added with a smirk. “But unfortunately you're the only one who can see me.

 

        “Besides, I _did_ try to contact you sooner, but I think I exhausted myself the last time.”

 

        Jim nodded, and sat down across from his pale visitor.

 

        “So what happens when you disappear?”

 

        “Nothing. At least I'm not aware of anything. When I become conscious, I just suddenly find myself in your proximity.”

 

        “That’s crazy.”

 

        “It is,” Oswald said quietly, and he seemed so sad that Jim had to look away.

 

        There was a question that had been eating away at Jim since he realised that Oswald was a ghost. He licked his lips nervously.

 

        “You… you don't think that you, uh, passed away, right?”

 

        God, this was one of the most uncomfortable things Jim had ever uttered.

 

        “I don't know. If I did, then I don't like the afterlife at all. No answers to anything, no wishes granted, and nothing makes sense.”

 

        “So maybe you’re not dead.”

 

        “Well, it can’t be anything good anyway, just hopefully something less definitive than death.”

 

        “Any idea where you could be physically?” Jim asked, trying to steer the conversation to less depressing topics.

 

        “None whatsoever. I-I know I’m not of much help to you,” Oswald added hurriedly when he saw the dejected look on Jim.

 

         “It’s not your fault. How’s, uh, how’s this form? Can you feel things the same way?”

 

        Oswald pursed his lips. “Well…the tactile function is faulty, as you have already witnessed that with the keypad fiasco. I just go through solid materials without feeling anything.”

 

        To demonstrate this, Oswald waved his hand back and forth through the wooden tabletop, Jim’s eyes widening. To Oswald’s surprise, Jim extended his own hand.

 

        “Try it on me. I wonder if I can feel anything.”

 

        Oswald humoured Jim, at first only trying with the pad of his index finger, drawing a line from Jim’s wrist towards his palm. Jim gave out the tiniest gasp, and looked into Oswald’s surprised face.

 

        “I could feel something. Faintly. Like a tingle. Come on, try it with your entire hand,” Jim urged Oswald.

 

        Hesitantly, Oswald reached out, and placed his palm in Jim’s, the detective looking up sharply again. “It’s interesting. I can feel coldness on the surface, like submerging my hand in ice cold water, but there’s also the warmth of the tingle.”

 

        “Curiously, I think I can also feel you. But not normally, as a human, I mean. There's no feel of your hand’s texture or warmth. It's difficult to explain; it’s something similar to a vibration.”

 

        They stayed like that, until Jim tried to clasp Oswald’s hand, but his fingers slipped through Jim’s, and the magic was broken. Jim could still feel the tingle, though, travelling across his body, through every nerve, until it gathered at the small of his back, where it felt like someone was caressing his bare skin, waiting for him to explode with sensations. This was too much for his tired and confused mind.

 

        “You can’t be dead,” Jim rasped before he got up abruptly and returned to washing dishes.

 

        Even with his back to Oswald, he could feel the mobster’s ardent gaze on him.

 

* * * * *

 

        Jim dropped in at the precinct the next morning, to check in with Harvey and the Captain if there had been any developments in the case before going back to Oswald’s apartment to find new clues.

 

        “Nada, as far as I know,” Harvey said, hitting the old coffee machine that refused to work.

 

        “Okay, I’ll go to the Captain then, see if she has any news.”

 

        “You’ll have to wait with that, Alvarez and Long are in her office. From what I heard their case now involves medical equipment theft as well, not just kidnapping.”

 

        Jim grimaced. Not much later, the Captain invited him and Harvey inside the office, but she only wanted to hear about their progress: she could provide no information. After they were done, Jim turned to Harvey to let him know that he would return to the apartment to hunt for more clues.

 

        “I’m coming too.”

 

        “Oh, you don’t have to, Harvey,” Jim started panicking, because he didn’t think Oswald would appear with Harvey around.

 

        “Please, I don’t want to rot at the station. Come on, kid, four eyes are better than two.”

 

        Jim huffed, and hoped this wouldn’t end in a disaster, however, he started sweating when he noticed that Oswald was already there in the backseat of the car. Jim looked at the rear-view mirror warningly as he fastened his seatbelt, hoping that Oswald wouldn’t do anything stupid.

 

        “I assume the good Detective Bullock wanted to tag along, because I can’t imagine you wanting him to find out about this,” Oswald commented slyly.

 

        Jim said nothing. He should have known that Oswald would make comments, especially since Harvey couldn’t hear him.

 

        “So, you really think we can find something at the little creep’s house or just wanted to ditch work? Which I totally get, partner. You know I’m always in.”

 

        “ _Little creep_?” Oswald hissed.

 

        “There must be something,” Jim said, and looked up alarmed, but then felt coldness around his right shoulder.

 

        Jim glanced to the left and saw that Oswald was flicking Harvey’s nose with his index finger. He looked back at the road, trying not to laugh. Harvey already looked like he was about to sneeze, and Jim tried to brace for it, because his partner’s sneezes usually shook the earth.

 

        “A-A-ACHOOOOO!”

 

        Oswald was giggling like a mad kindergartner.

 

        “Whew, I hope I’m not coming down with something. I fell asleep yesterday on the balcony for an hour.”

 

        “I’m sure you’ll be fine, Harvey,” Jim added, shaking his head at Oswald’s mirth. “Drink some hot tea with rum and you’ll be fine.”

 

        “Yeah, I think I’ll leave the tea for my grandma, but I like the idea of rum.”

 

        Typical Harvey. Not that he was actually threatened by a cold. Jim led them as they climbed the stairs to the apartment, and opened the door with the code and keys.

 

        “You never told me how you hacked the code,” Harvey commented as they entered the apartment.

 

        “Oh uh, it was luck. Pure luck.”

 

        Jim glared at a smirking Oswald.

 

        “Why don’t you tell Detective Bullock about your ghost friend, Jim? I’m sure he’d love that story.”

 

        “ _Shut up_ ,” Jim sneered, as quietly as possible.

 

        “What was that, Jim?” Harvey asked.

 

        “Should we, uh, go to the bedroom? Do you think that’s where _Penguin_ ,” and here Jim looked sharply at Oswald, “keeps his top secret things?”

 

        “Yeah, let’s check that first.”

 

        “What the fuck,” Harvey said as he entered the room. “Did you see that?”

 

        “What?”

 

        “The curtains, they were fluttering when we came in.”

 

        “Must be a draft, Harv, don’t worry,” Jim said even as he was watching Oswald shake the flimsy material.

 

        “Right… so, I’ll check this wardrobe, you the nightstands.”

 

        “I don’t really like him going through my possessions,” Oswald complained from his perch on the bed.

 

        Jim just sighed in response, checking the drawers for secret compartments.

 

        “Help out then,” he mouthed quietly, hoping Harvey was too busy rummaging through Oswald’s socks to hear him.

 

        “I would if I knew how. But it seems like ghost me does not know every secret real me knows.”

 

        “Jesus, Cobblepot has like a hundred pair of socks. All black,” Harvey muttered on the other side of the room, like that was the strangest thing he’d ever found.

 

        “You really think he’s hiding anything among socks?”

 

        “You never know with people like him. But I guess not. Hey, where does that door lead to?”

 

        Jim looked in the direction Harvey was pointing at. “I don’t know… bathroom?”

 

        The door started rattling on its hinges as Harvey approached.

 

        “What the… are you saying this is also because of a draft?!” Harvey exclaimed. “Jesus Christ, this place is creepy.”

 

        “Jim, I think that room might hide something. I have this feeling,” Oswald said before floating through the wall.

 

        Harvey opened the door hesitantly, only to find that it was a walk-in wardrobe. Jim joined him, and looked at the collection of impeccable suits and expensive, Italian leather shoes.

 

        “Damn it, these must have cost a fortune,” Harvey looked around in awe.

 

        Jim nodded, ignoring that cool, citrusy perfume that permeated the room which he recognised as Oswald’s signature smell.

 

        “Jim, check that corner there,” Oswald pointed, his form barely visible in the harsh light of the room.

 

        The detective crouched down while Harvey was still examining a suit. Jim examined shoe box after shoe box, until his fingers bumped against something wooden. He took it out and showed it to Harvey: “This doesn’t look like it belongs here, does it?”

 

        “Told you he’s hiding something. I bet it’s drugs.”

 

        “That’s my mother’s jewellery box,” Oswald said with a frown.

 

        Jim got up and examined the wooden box closely. It was an old piece with intricate floral carvings on the top. When he opened it, he saw several purple crystals inside, some darker, others delicately coloured. They were all tear-shaped, though, and were approximately the same size as far as Jim could tell.

 

        “Holy moly. Do you think those are real? Like something precious?”

 

        Jim picked up one of them and examined it closely. “Hard to tell. They look genuine enough, but we’ll have to have them checked.”

 

        Harvey nodded seriously. “Good find, Jimbo. This is the lead we’ve been looking for.”

 

        As a last prank on Harvey, Oswald slammed the wardrobe’s door after him, making the poor detective clutch his chest and flee the apartment. Jim watched Oswald laughing with a lopsided smile, then nodded his thanks as a goodbye. There was a lot of work waiting for him, which fortunately did not necessarily involve help from his ghost friend.  


	4. Imitation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The secret of the box with the gemstones.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> New chapter, ahoy! Hope you like it. :)

        Harvey and Jim took the jewel box to the precinct, directly to Ed’s lab, hoping that it would save them an extra trip. He took out the seven gemstones, and examined them carefully. Finally, after some deliberation, he put aside two of them.

 

        “These two are definitely fake, they are made of some kind of coloured glass. The rest, I think, are genuine, but I can’t tell you what they are. I’m no expert. But are you looking for anything in particular? Like are these supposed to be topazes or spinels?”

 

        Jim sighed. “I have no idea, but the fact that there are several, almost identical pieces, is very suspicious.”

 

        “Indeed. You need to ask at the jewellers in town, maybe someone will recognise them.”

 

        Jim returned with the box and the good news to Harvey, who was sitting at his desk, pretending to work, but Jim knew it was only in an attempt to not see Ed.

 

        “Come on, we have work to do.”

 

        “What, genius boy couldn’t solve it?”

 

        “He’s not a gem expert, Harvey. I don’t even know why we didn’t go to a jeweller directly.”

 

        “Because there are too many? Where should we even start?”

 

        “The most expensive ones, I guess. At least I think that’s where Cobblepot would go.”

 

        “Okay, let’s try Tiffany’s first.”

 

* * * * *

 

        The two detectives were not lucky, however. They had already checked Gotham’s top five jewellery shops, and no one recognised the gemstones. At least they found out that the five crystals Ed pointed out were indeed genuine, all made from different semiprecious stones: amethyst, spinel, topaz, sapphire and tanzanite. They weren’t quite sure what to do with the information, but Jim had noted it down in case they needed it.

 

        “Have you been to Cerny’s? They not only make jewellery, but also polish precious stones,” the owner of the last shop suggested.

 

        Harvey had heard about the shop, so he drove them there. Mr. Cerny was a middle-aged man with gold-rimmed glasses and long, silver hair he kept in a ponytail. He had immigrated to America thirty years prior, and had a flourishing business.

 

        “These are very nicely cut, especially the sapphire. It’s called the pear cut.”

 

        “Were either of these made in your workshop?” Harvey asked.

 

        “No, sadly not.”

 

        The door opened then, a blond, young man bringing a tray of gemstones to his boss for inspection. His eyes widened when he noticed Jim and Harvey.

 

        “Detectives, this is Petr, my nephew. He’s come from Kutná Hora, Bohemia, to perfect his knowledge. He’s very talented.”

 

        Petr shook their hands awkwardly, avoiding their eyes.

 

        “Look at these beautiful stones, Petr. See how nicely they are cut? If I didn’t know better, I’d say they were diamonds,” Mr. Cerny said, as he handed the box with the gemstones to his nephew.

 

 _Diamonds_ , Jim looked up sharply, the word reverberating through his head, various theories springing to his mind.

 

        “V-very beautiful indeed,” Petr stammered, and blushed.

 

        Jim and Harvey exchanged glances as they watched the young man leave. They said goodbye to Mr. Cerny, and sneaked to the back of the building, where they found Petr pacing up and down while smoking. He cursed in Czech when he saw the detectives, looking to the sky for divine help.

 

        “Okay, kiddo, spill the beans. What’s up with those stones?” Harvey asked bluntly.

 

        “I-I can’t, I can’t talk about it, he’ll kill me, he said so,” Petr whispered, rubbing his face.

 

        “Who will do that?”

 

        “No, no…”

 

        “Let me guess, it’s Penguin. Small, black hair, limps, and looks like a bird.”

 

        Petr whimpered.

 

        “You don’t have to worry, Petr. Cobblepot has gone missing, that’s why we’re investigating. We need to find out everything you know about these stones,” Jim added, trying to convince the boy to start talking.

 

        The boy whispered something, but it was inaudible.

 

        “What was that?”

 

        “I made them. I made those stones,” Petr admitted, leaning against the brick wall.

 

        “Why doesn’t your uncle know?”

 

        “He’s a bit clueless. About everything. And he doesn’t really let me work with gems, but I’m good. Really good. I made a lot of money back home. That man just found me one day and made me swear I kept it a secret, or he’d kill me. He showed me this pendant I had to copy. I tried it with glass first, then several gemstones, so he could pick the best one. Made it into a pendant and that was it.”

 

        “So the final product is not here?” Harvey asked.

 

        “No, these are the trials. I ended up using a sapphire for the pendant, because that’s the hardest material. It looked no different from the original, even the colour matched,” Petr admitted with quite some pride.

 

        “The original which was a diamond, I assume.”

 

        “I never dared ask, but I’m quite certain.”

 

        “Any ideas what Cobblepot wanted with it?” Jim asked, though he already suspected the answer.

 

        “No. When you have a gun against your head, you don’t ask questions.”

 

        “Right. Thank you for your help, Petr. Take care.”

 

        Harvey and Jim got into the car, and drove back to the GCPD.

 

        “So Cobblepot had a diamond copied? But is that diamond his?” Harvey mused.

 

        “I don’t know, but I guess whoever broke into his club was looking for it. What I don’t get is why he was abducted as well.”

 

        “You think he was abducted?” Harvey asked, obviously surprised. “It’s been a few days, I’d say he’s fish food by now.”

 

        Jim didn’t know why, but his partner’s words made him uncomfortable. “I don’t think he’s dead. He’s like a bad penny, he always turns up.”

 

        “Just because you couldn’t kill him, it doesn’t mean that others can’t. But okay, let’s go with your assumption that he’s alive. If the thieves got the diamond, which I guess they did, since we haven’t found it yet, what would they need Penguin for? To stare at his ugly face?”

 

        “I don’t know,” Jim said and buried his face in his hands.

 

        It made no sense, but when Oswald’s ghost was with him, Jim was convinced that the little gangster was still alive. However, when Harvey put matters like that, Oswald’s fate seemed rather uncertain.

 

        Hours later, when Harvey took pity on Jim and offered him a lift home, Jim thought he’d find out more about his partner’s opinion on supernatural matters.

 

        “Hey Harvey, do you believe in ghosts?”

 

        “Where did that one come from?”

 

        “I don’t know, I just remember Barbara mentioning her parents hosting séance sessions,” Jim lied.

 

        “Huh, rich people and their hobbies. My grandma told me her pop’s ghost appeared to her to say goodbye before he died, but the old lady was pretty senile and liked her sherry, so I don’t know if it was true. Look, there are strange things happening that might not have a logical explanation. If your lights flicker, just call an electrician.”

 

        Jim smiled; he should have known Harvey would turn it into a joke.

 

* * * * *

 

        Oswald looked on with disgust as Jim was microwaving his dinner. “That’s not exactly food, Jim.”

 

        “Whatever. Just be glad that you don’t need to eat.”

 

        “Yes, another joy taken from me. So, what did you find out?”

 

        Jim told Oswald about his afternoon adventures with Harvey in the strange and fascinating world of gemstones and counterfeit diamonds while shovelling mediocre lasagne into his mouth.

 

        “Any ideas why you had the gemstones made?” Jim asked.

 

        “No.”

 

        “We suspect that you might have been in the possession of a diamond –”

 

        But Jim was interrupted in exposing his theory by a fuming Oswald. “I hate this! What kind of poor and cheap imitation of a ghost am I?! I don’t know anything! I can’t remember anything! I’m useless. I am so sick and ti-”

 

        Without even finishing his sentence, Oswald disappeared, just like the first time Jim had met him. However, he didn’t come back a moment later.

 

        “Oswald?” Jim asked, confused. “Are you here?”  

 

        An unsettling feeling set over Jim, and he had to convince himself that Oswald was fine, and that he would come back. His anger probably drained his power, and his ghost projection couldn’t be sustained any more. It didn’t really help with his anxiety, so every noise made Jim jump. Finally, he went to bed, but he lied awake for a couple of hours.

 

* * * * *

 

        “Jim!”

 

        “I’m sorry, I know it’s the middle of the night, but…”

 

        Ghost Oswald found himself staring down the barrel of a gun.

 

        “Uh, Jim, I don’t really think that would work on me.”

 

        “Oswald,” Jim rasped, head still woozy from sleep. “You’re back. Was it a blackout again? Used up your powers?”

 

        “No, not really. I finally have information that might help. At least I hope so.”

 

        Jim perked up, and sat up in his bed. His first instinct was to reach out and turn on the lamp on his nightstand, but he decided against it – Oswald was ethereal in the faint city light that filtered through the curtains, as if he was made of the silver light of stars, giving out a soft glow. He was beautiful, and the thought brought with itself a strange lump in Jim’s throat.

 

        “When I disappeared from your apartment, I found myself lying on something. I could only move my index finger, then after a while and a lot of effort, I managed to open my eyes for a moment.”

 

        “Did you… did you go back to your body? You’re not dead then!”

 

        “I hope so.”

 

        “Any clues about the place? What did you see? Was there anyone around?”

 

        “Just a normal room, white walls. What was unusual, though, was this sweet smell, that became cloying after a while.”

 

        “Sweet smell…” Jim said to himself with furrowed brows.

 

        “But anyway, what I really wanted to tell you, why I wanted to hurry back… when I was lying back there, it was like inhabiting a stranger’s body. I-I don’t know how to explain this better, but for a moment, I managed to connect to this _other_ me. He kept repeating ‘safe in the bed’.”

 

        “Safe in the bed?”

 

        “Yes. I, too, found it confusing at first, but then I realised that he, well, that _I,_ meant safe as in, a place where one stores valuables.”

 

        “Oh. Okay, it’s really late now, so we can’t go investigating, but let’s meet tomorrow morning there,” Jim said. “We’ll look for that safe together.”

 

        “Thank you, James. Good night, and sorry for waking you up.”

 

        “Uh, no worries.”

 

        Jim turned away and tried to find a good sleeping position. He was relieved that Oswald was back, and closed his eyes with a sigh. Before slipping into dreamland, he could have sworn that someone’s cool fingers were caressing his forehead and hair, but it was so soothing that he quickly forgot about every worry.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know if you have any theories about the story, I keep thinking that I revealed too much. xD


	5. Promise

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jim and Oswald doing what they do best: fighting and saving each other's lives.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh guys, the end is so close, I can feel it! As always, I'm very curious what you think about the story or if you have any theories. :)

        “Morning, James!”

 

        “JESUS!” Jim exclaimed at the unexpected appearance of Oswald in the passenger seat, trying not to crash his car. “You can’t just appear out of thin air! I thought we agreed to meet at your club.”

 

        “Can’t I just spend time with my friend?”

 

        “We’re not friends, _Cobblepot_ ,” Jim grumbled, and made a sharp turn.

 

        “So rude, Detective. Denying the wish of a dying man.”

 

        “You’re not dying! And stop trying to manipulate me! See, that’s one of the reasons why we can’t be friends. You can’t just fucking buy or force feelings.”

 

        “I’m not trying to buy or force your friendship, Jim. I just thought we had this connection.”

 

        “Yeah, right.”

 

        “How would you explain then that I came back to you? That you’re the only one who can see me?”

 

        Jim’s jaw tightened. “Because I’m a detective, and the most capable of uncovering whatever mess you got into?”

 

        “Pretty sure the GCPD has other detectives as well, some of them less headstrong than you,” Oswald retorted, scrunching up his nose.

 

        Jim kept glancing at Oswald from time to time, but throughout the ride, the ghost refused to acknowledge him, looking out the window instead. After a few tries to catch his attention, Jim gave up. He thought Oswald was aware that their relationship could not really evolve further: they were just too different, in the most vital points. Jim had a strange feeling in his stomach, as if he had swallowed a stone. Even though he knew why he felt that way, he could not face it, not in that moment.

 

        When Jim got out of the car, Oswald vanished. Jim watched sadly the yellow and rust-coloured leaves in front of the bar, the place looking abandoned. They met again in Oswald’s apartment, but there was tension and a sense of distance in the air between them that Jim couldn’t stand. He raked through his hair nervously, words escaping him.

 

        “Oswald, listen…”

 

         “No, for once _you_ listen, Detective. I am tired that you keep brushing me aside when I become inconvenient to you, whether that’s with real me or this ghostly form. From the beginning of our acquaintance I’ve done nothing but help you. Favours which you didn’t have to pay back. And now this investigation… do you have any idea how much effort it took me until you heard me? How I watched you investigate in the club and I screamed, but you never heard me? How alone I was? That I thought I had died without saying goodbye to my mother?”

 

        Jim stared at Oswald, whatever he wanted to say long forgotten, Oswald’s quivering voice filling his head instead. His chest felt so constricted that no sound could escape it anyway. Finally, it was Oswald who just sighed, and floated to the bed.

 

        “You should try there.”

 

        Cautiously, Jim kneeled down and inspected the heavy wooden frame, until his fingernails caught into a crease. The small, hidden door revealed a safe, not much larger than a brick. Jim suspected this was for hiding money, but it wouldn’t be big enough to store Oswald’s wealth. Maybe the diamond was here? Jim’s curiosity grew by the minute, however, the realisation that he had to break another code put a damper on it.

 

        “Um… do you happen to know the code?” Jim asked, embarrassment colouring his cheeks.

 

        Oswald was looking outside the window, seemingly transfixed by the hustle and bustle of his beloved city.

 

        “ _A good friend is a connection to life — a tie to the past, a road to the future, the key to sanity in a totally insane world_.”

 

        Jim frowned. “Okay, is that supposed to help me?”

 

        Oswald hummed. “Of course, I wouldn’t waste my breath on meaningless quotes. Don’t expect me to spell it out, though. After all, you’re the detective, James.”

 

        “Oh yes? I thought you couldn’t remember such things,” Jim countered, bothered by Oswald’s tone and how it made his blood boil.

 

        “I can’t, you’re right. But I guessed it. Since the other me wanted to protect something precious in there, I am certain that the code also represents something that I value _greatly_.”

 

        The explanation confused Jim further. He was not sure what Oswald wanted to say through all this nonsense about friendship and precious things. When Oswald turned back, he scoffed at Jim’s expression. The detective looked down, not sure why he felt embarrassed to have disappointed a supernatural being.

 

        “It’s tied to you, Jim,” Oswald said resignedly, his anger completely deflated. “They are your numbers.”

 

        Oswald turned his head away, then disappeared. Jim blinked a few times. Great, he managed to upset again and drive away his only help. What did Oswald mean by his numbers? Jim tried his house number, badge number, car plate number, first and last four digits of his phone number. No result.

 

        Then an idea popped into his head, which he dismissed at first, but then thought to try it. He typed in the numbers, and the door opened. Jim’s breathing quickened, and his ears turned red.

 

        It was his birthday. The code was his birthday.

 

        Jim rubbed his eyes. He had no time to dwell on this. With bated breath, he opened the safe, only to find a framed photograph in it. He felt like the reveal was a bit anticlimactic, but then he had a closer look. The black and white picture was of a smiling young woman with light brown, curly hair, a similarly curly-haired girl in her hands.

 

        “Wait… isn’t that…” _your mother_ , Jim wanted to say, but the cold realisation that he was alone hit him, and he would have felt like a fool saying it out loud.

 

        But judging by the clothes, they looked like the ones people wore half a century ago, so that couldn’t be Oswald’s mother. However, the resemblance was uncanny… that little girl, that could me Mrs. Kapelput, and the woman her mother… so that made her Oswald’s grandmother. Jim’s eyes fell on the pendant Oswald’s grandmother was wearing – it was a tear-shaped precious stone on a long chain. Rather simple, but elegant. _Oh_. So Oswald did own the diamond!

 

        Jim got up hurriedly. He finally knew what he had to do. They had to find Mrs. Kapelput as soon as possible, and hear the story of the diamond. He had a last look around, hoping that Oswald had come back in the meantime, but since he couldn’t feel that familiar coldness at his nape, Jim hurried downstairs, suppressing the pang in his chest.

 

        When he was finally outside, Jim took out his phone to let Harvey know that he’d be at the GCPD in ten minutes. He was focused on his phone, and that was why he didn’t notice the black car slowing down, its window being pulled down.

 

        “JIM!”

 

        That was all the detective heard, and then he felt two hands on his back, pushing him down hard while bullets were flying overhead, people were screaming and the windows of Oswald’s club shattered around him. Jim lied on his stomach, his ears ringing and heart thumping erratically. He looked up just in time to see the car drive away, but of course, it had no licence plate.

 

        “Are you all right?” Oswald was leaning over him, worried, his immaterial hands roaming over Jim’s arms, then they settled on his shoulders.

 

        “Yes… you saved me. You-you pushed me… I would have been shot if it weren’t for you,” Jim’s hand automatically reached out for Oswald’s arm, but yet again his fingers went through the ethereal form.

 

        Jim frowned at his hand then. “I don’t understand… your touch was so solid and strong.”

 

        “I concentrated all my power in my hands. Unlike me, I’m not sure you could take those bullets without any consequences.”

 

        Jim gulped, then got up. “Does that mean you’re not upset with me anymore?”

 

        “I’ve never said that. Don’t push your luck, Jim Gordon,” Oswald said, but Jim could spy a tiny smile form on his lips.

 

        He sighed with relief. “Thank you. I need to drop by the precinct.”

 

* * * * *

 

        “What, someone tried to murder you? Out on the streets, in broad daylight?!” Harvey was mad in Jim’s stead.

 

        “Well, it’s not like it hasn’t happened before.”

 

        “Okay, this shit is getting serious. So, what did you say that you got your hands on?”

 

        Jim handed Harvey the old photograph he’d found in the safe.

 

        “Is that his mother?”

 

        “More like grandmother.”

 

        “Okay, but what does this have to do… the pendant,” Harvey suddenly realised. “So it’s a family heirloom.”

 

        Jim nodded, his head throbbing at the movement. Not much later, they went to Captain Essen to present her the new evidence.

 

        “All right, we shall focus on finding Mrs. Kapelput from now on, unless something else comes up. Ask the neighbours, Cobblepot’s employees, anyone who might have an idea where she is.”

 

        “Yes, Captain,” Harvey and Jim replied.

 

        “Jim, take the rest of the day off. You had enough action for today.”

 

        “But Captain...”

 

        “I insist. You look terrible. Bullock and the others can deal with the case for one afternoon.”

 

        Jim nodded, thankful that he didn’t have to work with his throbbing headache. But the moment he got out of the building, he had no idea what to do. Luckily, the sun was shining despite it being late autumn, so Jim decided to walk home and clear his head. He hoped that no one would try to shoot him again. Close to his flat, he passed a supermarket when he felt chilly touch at his nape.

 

        “You’d better go inside and buy yourself some normal food.”

 

        Jim glanced at Oswald, then around the street before he replied: “Uh, I’m fine. I’m sure I have something edible at home. Or I could just order Chinese.”

 

        Oswald scoffed. “I’m pretty sure I saw cobwebs in your fridge. Go inside.”

 

        Forty minutes later, Jim was packing out things he had no idea what to do with on his counter, just because a ghost only he could see told him to buy them. _You’ll thank me later_ , Oswald had said in the supermarket, and Jim sighed, too lazy to fight him. It wasn’t worth it anyway: he’d just find the item in question smuggled back into his basket.

 

        “You know I can’t cook, right?” Jim asked, certain that Oswald was around and could hear him.

 

        “Nonsense. Anyone can learn. I’ll guide you.”

 

        In the end, Jim prepared delicious pasta with pancetta and zucchini. He had to admit that it was easier than he imagined, but of course, he only managed because Oswald told him what to do, patiently answering Jim’s every question.

 

        “My first lunch and not only is it edible, but delicious,” Jim said as he wolfed it down.

 

        “I wish I could taste it,” Oswald sighed.

 

        “When you’re back, I’ll cook for you,” Jim said, without even thinking.

 

        A moment later, he stopped chewing, his cheeks blushing under Oswald’s intense gaze. He wanted to retract his words, to say that he was just joking, but then he remembered the morning, the absolutely terrible feeling of knowing he upset and disappointed Oswald, the glint in those eager eyes, and he knew he never wanted to experience that again.

 

        “Promise?” Oswald whispered, barely audible.

 

        “Promise.”

 

        Jim washed the dishes and at the insistence of Oswald, cleaned his kitchen. At first, he was glad when Oswald flickered out, so the ghost couldn’t witness the disgusted face he made when he threw out some moulded cheese from the fridge, but Oswald disappeared a few times against his will. Jim was quite troubled by these events, but he didn’t want to say anything, so that Oswald wouldn’t worry. He just hoped that it wasn’t bad news.

 

        He’d just settled in front of the TV with a beer when his phone rang. It was Harvey.

 

        “Hey, Jim. I have news: Gilzean’s here, he said Gabe called him about half an hour ago, asking about Cobblepot. We’re trying to track the call now.”

 

        “Okay, I’m coming there.”

 

        “You sure?”

 

        “Yes. Give me fifteen minutes.”

 

        Jim looked at Oswald, who seemed more translucent.

 

        “I hope he doesn’t do anything stupid,” Oswald said, voice small.

 

        “Don’t worry, we’ll find your mother soon.”


	6. You Found Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The investigation continues. Will Jim be able to locate Oswald's whereabouts?

        The tech guys had managed to track the call by the time Jim made it to the GCPD. Unfortunately, it was a public phone, located outside of Gotham. Jim asked to have a list of the house owners in the area. He didn’t think Oswald had a house there, but he didn’t have any other idea. Butch didn’t know anything either, so it was currently their only lead.

 

        Jim was perusing the list when his eyes were drawn to one of the names. Peter Humboldt. Where had he heard that name before?

 

        “Harvey! I got it! They’re staying on Flat Road 52,” Jim said and got up, dragging a confused Harvey with himself.

 

        “What the hell, Jimbo! How did you get this one?” Harvey asked, once they were racing through the rather empty streets of Gotham.

 

        “Long story short, when Oswald returned to Gotham, he came to my place. Well, Barbara’s. And he introduced himself to her as Peter Humboldt. One of the houses is owned by a certain Peter Humboldt.”

 

        “Huh,” Harvey said with raised eyebrows, but didn’t comment anything else.

 

        They parked the car at the end of the street, and sneaked to the house in the darkness. It was rather small, but it looked cosy. The lights were on in one room downstairs – from what Jim could tell through the thick curtains, it was the kitchen. However, there was no movement. Harvey and Jim made a plan to approach the house from two directions: Jim from the front and Harvey from the back. Just as they were about to separate, however, there was a sharp click behind them.

 

        “Shit,” Harvey muttered under his nose.

 

        “Detective Gordon?” Gabe asked, incredulous.

 

        Jim sighed with relief, and put his gun away as he turned around. “Yeah, Gabe. It’s me. We need to talk.”

 

       “I knew I shouldn’t have called. Boss will be so mad,” Gabe said as they ushered the detectives inside the house.

 

       “We need to talk to Mrs. Kapelput, is she here?”

 

        “Yes, just a second,” Gabe said, and knocked on a door that Jim and Harvey hadn’t even noticed. “Gertrude, it’s me. You can come out now.”

 

        Mrs. Kapelput looked around warily, her eyes widening when she spotted Harvey and Jim.

 

        “Mr. Gordon?” Then she turned to Gabe: “Why did you let them in? You can’t trust them.”

 

        “Mrs. Kapelput, please…”

 

        “Where is my son? Where is my Oswald?”

 

        Oddly, Jim felt as if he was ten again, being scolded by a neighbour for some mischief he’d done. “Let’s, uh, let’s sit down and talk.”

 

        They wound up in the kitchen, and Gabe made tea while Mrs. Kapelput and the detectives sat around the tiny table.

 

        “Ma’am, I’m afraid Oswald’s disappeared.”

 

        Mrs. Kapelput whimpered, and said something in a language Jim didn’t understand. “I told my Oswald to stop frequenting painted hussies. He is a good boy, he shouldn’t go to them.”

 

        “Don’t worry, we’re working on his case. We hoped you could help us,” Jim said carefully, then took out the photo he’d found in the safe. “Do you recognise this picture?”

 

        Mrs. Kapelput was evidently surprised to see it, but then she smiled fondly at it as she took it from Jim’s hands. “Of course. That’s my dear mother and me. Where did you find this photo?”

 

        “In Oswald’s apartment. What can you tell me about that pendant your mother’s wearing?”

 

        Mrs. Kapelput’s eyes darkened immediately, and her smile vanished without a trace. “I don’t wish to talk about it.”

 

        “We believe your son’s disappearance is linked to it,” Harvey said. “We need to find out as much about it as possible. Where did Oswald keep it, for example?”

 

        “Keep it?” Mrs. Kapelput put down her cup, confused. “That cursed thing hasn’t been in our family for over fifty years.”

 

        “Are you sure?”

 

        “Of course, I am, I was there when those brutes tore it from my mother’s neck!”

 

        Mrs. Kapelput wiped her eyes, and Jim was amazed at the resemblance between her and Oswald, their pale eyes equally expressive.

 

        “There was a story, well, a legend in the family that the diamond was cursed. No one really wore it, because it was thought that it brought bad luck. My mother didn’t believe in these stories. She wore it for several years without any incidents, but then on our way here, on the ship, it was stolen. My father left us alone, just for a few seconds, and then the men came. They hit her… I can still hear her cry,” Mrs. Kapelput shook her head, as if she could get rid of the painful memories.

 

        “You haven’t seen the diamond since then?”

 

        “No, never. My mother wouldn’t have taken it back. She hated it, she called it ‘that purple nightmare’.”

 

        Harvey and Jim looked at each other, puzzled.

 

        “Do you think Oswald found it? That’s why he got into trouble?” Mrs. Kapelput asked.

 

        “Could be. He had all these fake diamonds made.”

 

        “I told that silly boy so many times that the diamond was cursed,” Mrs. Kapelput blew her nose in a handkerchief.

 

        Jim’s eyes widened when he noticed Oswald’s ghostly form wrap an arm around his mother’s shoulders, trying to comfort her. He felt like an intruder at an intimate family meeting, so he signalled to Harvey that they were finished.

 

        “Mr. Gordon, please find my son. He’s the only one I have,” Mrs. Kapelput said as the detectives got up.

 

        With a lump in his throat, Jim nodded.

 

* * * * *

 

        Just like the previous days, those two idiots came after her. She was blindfolded and then dragged outside her cell, the bigger guy holding her arm in a vice while Martello – she heard the big guy calling him that – yammered on about some party that night. She was thrown in the back of a van, while Big Guy and Martello continued to talk as if she weren’t even there.

 

        “You think Stella will be there too? I wanted to ask her out, but Giacomo has been circling around her like a vulture.”

 

        “He’s gone, doing some business for Boss. You should be fine. Go for it, buddy.”

 

        “Yeah? Cool, I’ll ask her tonight then.”

 

        Everything was the same, except for one thing: they forgot to lock the door. She said a prayer, and hoped that her plan would work.

  
* * * * *

 

        Jim woke to an urgent call from Captain Essen. He and Harvey basically ran into the GCPD at the same time. One of their colleagues directed them towards an interrogation room.

 

        “Harvey, Jim, just in time,” the Captain greeted them.

 

        Jim saw a tiny Asian woman in the room, talking to Alvarez, and he frowned in confusion. What did they have to do with all this?

 

        “That’s Dr. Charlotte Yoon. She’s the missing person Long and Alvarez have been looking for, but I think you’ll be very interested in what she has to say.”

 

        “Dr. Yoon, I’m Detective Gordon and this is my partner, Detective Bullock. Could you please tell us what happened?”

 

        Alvarez nodded encouragingly before he left the room.

 

        “I – I was abducted as I walked to my car one morning on my way to work. They didn’t say anything, just blindfolded me, threw me inside a van, and drove me away. I thought they would kill me, but they took me to a… uh, room. There was an unconscious man there, with a head wound… I had to treat him.”

 

        “An unconscious man? Could you describe him?” Harvey asked, Jim’s pulse quickening.

 

        “Small, pale, black hair. Very distinct nose, almost like a beak.”

 

        Jim could barely breathe. “Was he… all right?”

 

        Doctor Yoon nodded. “I cleaned his wound as much as possible, and those guys got hold of medical equipment, so I could check his vitals. They must have stolen it. He’d been in a coma ever since, although he showed signs of waking up in the last couple of days. I didn’t tell that to the idiots, though, didn’t want to get the guy into trouble. They’d probably force him to wake up. I’m sorry that I couldn’t save him, I just knew that when those two gorillas left the door unlocked, it was my one and only chance.”

 

        “No, you did well, Doctor. We’ll get him out of there. What can you tell us this place? Do you know anything about your captors?”

 

        “Unfortunately, I don’t know where the place is – I was not kept there. They took me to his room every day, but never left me to stay. Always moved me with the van. All I know is that one of the guys is called Martello. I’m sorry that I can’t help you more.”

 

        “You’ve been very helpful, Dr. Yoon. Thank you, and get well soon,” Jim added as he and Harvey left the room.

 

        “Martello, that’s Maroni’s guy,” Harvey said once they were outside.

 

        “It doesn’t really help us, though. Oswald could be anywhere.”

 

        “Still, this is progress. We’ll get to him soon, don’t worry,” Harvey clapped Jim on the back, and went to their desk.

 

        Jim tried to get his thoughts together, to come up with theories where Oswald could be kept. Although he couldn’t feel Oswald’s presence, he thought that he might appear in a private place. Jim locked the bathroom, and whispered Oswald’s name, but nothing happened. He opened the tap and let the water flow so that it was freezing cold when he splashed it on his face.

 

        Just for a moment, Jim saw Oswald in the mirror, as if he wanted to say something, but he disappeared in the blink of an eye. Jim touched the mirror, a shiver running down his spine when he made contact with the cold surface. He bowed his head, and stood there for a moment. He tried to remember everything that Oswald had told him.

 

_What was unusual, though, was this sweet smell…_

 

        Jim went back to his desk, the cogs of his mind turning. “Hey, Harvey does Maroni own like a… uh, perfume factory?”

 

        “Not that I know of.”

 

        “Okay, what about a chocolate factory?”

 

        “Let me check… well, he owns the Sugar Plum candy factory. Why?”

 

        Jim exhaled loudly. “I think Oswald is kept there.”

 

        Harvey just blinked. “Either you’re Sherlock Holmes and solved this by some crazy deduction, like based on the length of Dr. Yoon’s trouser leg divided by the number of cars parked in front of the building, or you know something I don’t.”

 

        Jim closed his eyes; he should have known he’d have to explain his lunacy. “I… had an informant. Kinda.”

 

        “Informant?”

 

        “Yeah. Uh, I talked to – well, you see, uh, I can, _could_ talk to Oswald.”

 

        “You mean while he was in a _freaking coma_?!”

 

        Jim grimaced.

 

        “I knew all this work was making you crazy. Please tell me that was just a joke.”

 

        After a long stretch of silence where Jim just stared at the ground, Harvey started laughing. “Good one, partner! I almost believed you there for a second.”

 

        “It is real, though. I know it’s crazy, but…” Jim trailed off, his eyes staring off at something above Harvey.

 

        “Earth to Jim Gordon! What are you looking at?”

 

        Jim was smiling. “I have proof. In two seconds, your hat’s gonna fly off.”

 

        “What?!” Harvey had barely time to register Jim’s words, when, indeed, someone knocked off his hat. He turned around, irritated. “Hey!”

 

        There was no one behind him, though, no one visible anyway. Harvey narrowed his eyes, and looked at a smirking Jim distrustfully. “Don’t tell me that was him…”

 

        “It was, though.”

 

        “You, son of a bitch, if you touch my hat again…” Harvey threatened, looking around himself.

 

        “He’s gone,” Jim said. “He’s not been able to appear for long times in the last few days. I guess Dr. Yoon is right, and he started waking up.”

 

        “God dammit, Jim! Why didn’t you just ask him where he was then, and save us all this trouble?!”

 

        “He didn’t know where he was! But he’s helped us all along the investigation.”

 

        After some time, Harvey nodded. “It all makes sense now, how you just somehow _knew_ certain things. You’re not a genius, just a guy who can talk to ghosts. Are you a psychic or something?”

 

        “No, of course not. I don’t know, it just happened… in this case.”

 

        “I knew Penguin had a crush on you, but I didn’t think it was _this_ deep. You’re so screwed.”

 

        Jim just shook his head. “Let’s go to the Captain, she’ll help us come up with a battle plan.”

 

* * * * *

 

        “The candy factory? Are you sure?”

 

        “It’s our best shot.”

 

        “We have to do it tonight then,” Captain Essen declared. “Maroni is hosting a dinner party at his mansion. He’ll hopefully be preoccupied.”

 

        “So we bust the crew at the factory, while another team arrests Maroni in front of all his guests?” Harvey looked at Jim for confirmation.

 

        “That’s the plan.”

 

        “All right, assemble the team. We must do it this tonight.”

 

* * * * *

 

        Jim had a bad feeling as they surrounded the building. There was too little movement and too much darkness, as if the unseen enemy was standing by, holding their breath. Indeed, as soon as they entered the building, bullets were raining down at the policemen from several directions. Jim and Harvey ducked behind some machinery, shooting back and slowly advancing. Since Oswald had told Jim that he was in a room, they suspected it was one of the offices in the back.

 

        The bullets became ever rarer – either the shooters were wounded or they scurried away. Jim didn’t care, just hoped that they got there in time. He and Harvey ran up some stairs, punching a man who was shocked to see them there.

 

        “Hope the others will fall as easily as this guy,” Harvey commented while he checked one of the rooms.

 

        Jim raised his hand as they reached a corner, stopping Harvey from marching on. His back to the wall, he peaked out, only to notice two guards at the end of the short corridor.

 

        “Two guys by a door. We need a distraction,” Jim mouthed.

 

        “Leave it to me.”

 

        Jim watched with wide eyes as Harvey just walked on, as if he’d owned the place.

 

        “Hey, hey, what are you doing here? Haven’t you heard that the boss wants everyone downstairs?”

 

        The two guards were flabbergasted, and looked at each other.

 

         “Can’t you hear the noise? Chop, chop, hurry up! The guy behind the corner will give you directions.”

 

        Jim punched the first guy, while Harvey pushed the other to the ground, hitting the back of the mobster’s head with his gun. Jim’s opponent soon joined his unconscious friend on the floor, and Jim stepped over them with a grunt. With rising anxiousness, he approached the door, and threw it open while pointing his gun.

 

        But there were no other bad guys in the room.

 

        Jim heaved a sigh of relief as he saw Oswald on the bed, the beeping of a machine and Harvey’s poke in his ribs compelling him to finally enter the room. He stepped to the bed slowly; only half of his mind perceiving Harvey’s call for an ambulance in the background.

 

        He touched Oswald’s hand – the slender fingers were cold. Jim looked at his peaceful features, the way his lashes fluttered, and then Oswald’s eyes opened. His gaze was cloudy for a moment, but then his eyes crinkled in a slight, but hopeful smile. Cold fingers wrapped around Jim’s weakly.

 

        “You found me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I finished the story not long ago, so the final chapter should be posted soon. :)


	7. A Heart

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mystery solved.

        Despite Oswald waking up for a moment to greet his saviour, he fell back into the coma. The doctors reassured Harvey and Jim that it was something normal, and that he was gradually gaining consciousness, so there was nothing to worry about.

 

        The GCPD was swamped with work, so Jim only had time to visit in the evenings. At first, he just sat there, watching Oswald’s pale face, but then a nurse saw him and came in.

 

          “He was awake for a bit this afternoon,” she said as she put a blood pressure metre around Oswald’s arm and started pumping.

 

          “Really?” Jim asked, looking up hopefully.

 

          “Yes, but he was very agitated. He wanted to leave, and he looked really scared. It took us some time to calm him down.”

 

          Jim frowned. He wished he didn’t have to work on Maroni’s case, so he could stay around more often, help Oswald recover somehow.

 

          “You should talk to him. Many patients tell us that they can feel and hear when their friends and loved ones are talking to them.” Noticing Jim’s blushing cheeks, the nurse added, “Nothing to be embarrassed about. I’ll go, leave you two alone.”

 

          Jim waited for a while, then tentatively took Oswald’s hand in his. “Hi. Uh, it’s Jim. I don’t know if you can hear me, the nurse said it’s possible. Just thought that you’d like to know that we arrested Maroni. We’ll get your statement, and then he’ll be behind bars for a long time. You just have to wake up, okay?”

 

          Jim looked up from the stark white sheets, but Oswald’s face was unchanged. He squeezed the delicate fingers with a sigh, and got up from the uncomfortable plastic chair. This was so frustrating; ghost Oswald and he had worked so much… Oswald had to wake up and get better, he absolutely had to.

 

* * * * *

 

          Harvey watched him sympathetically the next day. “No change?”

 

          “The nurse said he woke up yesterday, but he was unconscious again by the time I got there.”

 

          “And… uh… what about his ghost?” Harvey asked, before looking around suspiciously.

 

          “Haven’t seen him since the hat trick,” Jim sighed.

 

          Even when he got home, the feeling of loneliness never went away. His small flat felt empty and unfriendly as he sat in front of the TV with his reheated takeout. How Jim wished he could see ghost Oswald just once, even though that would probably be bad news: he seemed to surface only when Oswald slipped into a deeper coma. He went to bed with a deep ache burning in his chest.

 

* * * * *

 

          By Friday afternoon, Jim was so exhausted, he could barely stand on his feet, but he stubbornly went to the hospital, where one of the nurses informed him that Oswald had been conscious for over an hour earlier that day. Jim thanked her, and thought that it was probably time to let Mrs. Kapelput return to Gotham. Gabe somehow managed to convince her that they needed to stay in their hideout till Maroni was convicted, so that she wouldn’t worry needlessly about her son.

 

          Jim brought his chair closer to the bed; that way he could hold Oswald’s hand while he leaned against the backrest. He just wanted to rest his burning eyes for five minutes… which turned into an hour-long nap. He woke up to someone squeezing his hand, and when he looked up, confused, his eyes met Oswald’s.

 

          “Hello, Jim.”

 

          “You’re awake,” Jim whispered, then sat up while still holding Oswald’s hand. “How do you feel?”

 

          “Fine. It’s just annoying that I sleep so much.”

 

          “You need to get well,” Jim said.

 

          “The nurse told me you came in every day… I wanted to be awake when you visited. To thank you.”

 

          It wasn’t just the words, but Oswald’s gaze, perhaps a thousand times more intense than ever before, and Jim couldn’t look away.

 

          “That’s my job. Although you were right, I couldn’t have done it without you,” Jim admitted, not even noticing that his thumb was caressing Oswald’s knuckles.

 

          “You’re a great detective, you would have figured it out. Could you get me a glass of water, please?”

 

          “Oh, of course,” Jim felt like an ass for not offering himself. He got up and filled a glass by the sink in the room, then returned to Oswald.

 

          “How’s my mother? I am surprised she didn’t burst through the door yet.”

 

          “I asked Gabe to keep her in the hideout for as long as possible. I don’t think it would be wise for her to see you unconscious. But you’re getting better now, so I’ll let Gabe know.”

 

          “Thank you.”

 

          “So… uh… how much do you remember about what happened?” Jim asked hesitantly.

 

          “Hmm… this is not my official statement, is it?”

 

          “Oswald… I cannot lie for you, if that’s what you’re implying.”

 

          “I don’t expect that, Jim. Just listen to my story. So my mother told you about how the diamond was stolen from my grandma. They never found out who the thieves were. I, too, almost forgot the story, until a day when I was in Maroni’s mansion. Mrs. Maroni had remarked my good taste, and asked me to help her with selecting the accessories for the event they would attend later that night.

 

          “She showed me her collection – which was full of breathtaking pieces – but then I noticed the diamond. I asked her about it, and she told me she got it from her great uncle, or some such story. I don’t think she knew that her uncle had sticky fingers.”

 

          “Gosh, Oswald… what if that’s not the diamond that was stolen from your grandmother? You risked your life on an assumption?!” Jim glared at Oswald.

 

          “That diamond belonged to our family. Believe me, it’s the same one. They had no right to take it, no right!” Oswald almost shouted, and Jim patted him soothingly, fearing that a nurse would come to kick him out of the salon. After all, he was visiting after hours…

 

          “Okay, okay, I get it.” Jim should have known Oswald’s pride would get him into trouble. “So what did you do next?”

 

          “I told Mrs. Maroni that she should have the diamond made into a pendant. She entrusted me with this task, and well, I think you know the rest,” Oswald sighed.

 

          “You went to Cerny’s, and threatened the poor apprentice boy. Then took back the false diamond to Mrs. Maroni. Did Maroni know nothing about this?”

 

          “He did, of course, his wife told him. But neither realised that the diamond wasn’t a diamond anymore. That sapphire did look very convincing. So they put it back in their safe, and in the meantime, I got my club, and got rid of the Maronis. They weren’t supposed to find out it was a fake… at least not that soon.”

 

          “So that’s why Maroni caught you unprepared?”

 

          “Indeed. When Maroni and his goons broke in, he started telling me a story about trust, then how disappointed his wife was when she found out her diamond had been replaced. She showed her new pendant to her friends, one of them dropped it, and it got chipped, so he knew something wasn’t right. Maybe he even had it checked out. I tried to get away, but I slipped on the stairs, and hit my head.”

 

          “Okay, this all makes sense, but why did Maroni take you with him?” Jim asked. “Why not just leave you there?”

 

          “Because they couldn’t find the real diamond,” Oswald said, grinning. “So they thought I was just knocked out, and I’d tell them when I woke up.”

 

          “Then when they noticed that it was something more serious, they kidnapped Dr. Yoon to make sure that you lived through,” Jim shook his head incredulously. “They wanted to wait till you woke up, extract the diamond’s location from you, and then dispose of your body.”

 

          Jim was only slightly surprised by the revolting anger and sick feeling that arose in his stomach at the prospect of this alternative. Had Oswald not come back as a ghost, Jim doubted that he and Harvey could untangle this messy story on their own.

 

          “Don’t ever do this to me,” Jim rasped, and now it was Oswald who looked down guiltily. “Not after everything we went through.”

 

          They stayed in silence for a couple of minutes, ruminating on their thoughts.

 

          “What happened to ghost Oswald? I kind of miss him,” Jim said to lighten the mood.

 

          Oswald smiled. “He returned to his rightful body after he was sure that the GCPD wouldn’t screw up anymore.”

 

          “Your sassiness didn’t diminish, I see. Thank you for convincing Harvey, though.”

 

          “I was afraid I wouldn’t have enough power by then, but it worked. I returned to my body, though I was aware that help was on the way. I knew you would come soon, and then I woke to distant gunshots, and knew that you’d arrived. You always liked dramatic entrances.”

 

          They smiled at each other, then Jim told Oswald about the news in the city. There was still one question that remained unanswered: where was the real diamond?

 

          When Jim finally brought up the topic, Oswald laughed. “I’m pretty sure you passed by it a few times. You know what they say, if you want to hide something, hide it in plain sight.”

 

          “You mean to say it was in your club all along?!”

 

          “It’s hidden at the tip of the neon umbrella sign.”

 

          Oswald laughed even harder at Jim’s grimace. “Why didn’t ghost you know about this? Do you know how much easier it would have been for us?”

 

          “I know, I know. I’m sorry. In my defence, though, I put it there literally minutes before Maroni arrived. I kept changing the hiding place.”

 

          “Well, I guess you have a diamond now…”

 

          “Which I’m sure my mother will insist on getting rid of…”

 

          “No wonder, it carries negative memories for her.”

 

          Oswald nodded, then yawned. “I’m afraid my brain is shutting down soon. It was nice talking to you, I really appreciate you visiting me, Jim.”

 

          Jim got up, and watched Oswald fluff his pillow while he prepared to leave. Guided by some mysterious impulse, Jim leaned in and kissed Oswald’s forehead, caressing Oswald’s cheekbone with his thumb.

 

          Jim was almost out of the salon, when Oswald directed a final question at him:

 

          “Apropos, Detective… is your dinner offer still on?”

 

          “Of course,” Jim answered, smiling bashfully. “Just… get well soon, okay?”

 

          “I wouldn’t miss it for anything in the world.”

 

          Jim smiled, suddenly feeling very relieved. His steps had more vigour, and something about his posture had changed too. Even though he wasn’t aware of these changes, Oswald fell asleep with a smile on his lips, knowing that he had not only gained the purple diamond in the process, but more importantly, Detective James Gordon’s heart as well.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much to everyone who read this story! Your kudos and comments mean a lot, and helped me along the way. I haven't written a multi-chapter fic in a _very_ long time, so this was a big step. Thank you to everyone who helped in the creative process too - you know who you are. :)
> 
> Please follow Gobblepot Gazette on [tumblr](http://gobblepotgazette.tumblr.com/) and [twitter]() \- we'll have an announcement for a new event next week! I hope we'll have many participants this time as well. Let's keep that gobblepot love alive! <3


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